Dazed and Confused
by Miriflowers
Summary: In a world that seems hell-bent on killing her off as quickly as possible, Nora struggles to bring hope to a broken wasteland, come to terms with her family problems, and feed her chem addiction. Hancock is just along for the ride. f!SS/Hancock, mild spoilers, rated M for cussin, killin, and drug abuse. slow burn
1. Chapter 1

The trip back to Sanctuary had taken two days, not counting nights. By the time they shuffled their way across the old rickety bridge, the sun way already making its way over the mountains. Hancock stopped briefly to stretch, bones crunching dangerously, before stepping inside the perimeter. Nora had already flagged down Trashcan Carla, who looked like she had just gotten up and was taking her first smoke break of the day. Before he could make his way over to them, Garvey noticed him and made his way over.

"Hancock," the Minuteman said by way of greeting, "did you happen to find any of the stuff off the list I gave you?"

"Got whatever we could find," Hancock replied, lighting up a cigarette before rummaging through his pack for the replacement light bulbs and canned goods he was so dutifully carrying for Nora, "you should ask her Highness for the rest before she pawns it off to Carla."

Garvey grabbed the offered items and scrammed. Exhaling, Hancock felt the nicotine doing its work and shivered slightly. The early morning chill had been getting stronger as it approached winter. It was times like these when he wished his choice of dress was more conventional.

He watched the sun rising and worked on his cigarette.

"Here."

Hancock looked over to see Nora holding out a dirty-looking blue scarf. Curiously, he picked up the offered article, running his chapped fingertips over the bumpy material.

"Had to sell the old family farm to Carla, but you looked cold," she said, reaching into her pocket for a cigarette, "Can I get a light?" Hancock sighed, leaning over to light it with his own. She looked surprised at his move as though she actually expected him to waste lighter fluid.

"You may be able to handle yourself in a fight, but you still got a lot to learn, sister," he grumbled at her. She gave him a dopey smile before going back to talk with Garvey about supply routes or some shit. Always doing the most, he thought, his eyes lingering on her before tearing himself away to go hit the chemistry station. Those raiders they'd hit in the old quarry outside of town had been swimming in Jet, and he wanted to test out a new recipe he'd been working on.

About two hours later, he started to crash pretty bad. It wasn't just because he hadn't taken a hit since the last small encounter with Bloatflies they'd had a few miles out of Concord, either. Lack of sleep hadn't mattered when fear of death was around every corner, but now that there were dozens of heavy machinegun turrets between him and the Wasteland, he was starting to get all droopy-eyed and sluggish. He gathered up his freshly-minted chems and made his way back to Nora's house to crash on her couch. By this time, he would have preferred his own bed, since the couch was more wood and steel than cushion and cloth. He had even threatened Nora with crowding her out of her own mattress, but that threatening look she got in her eye had shut him up real quick.

"Honey, I'm home," he grumbled to himself, stopping in the doorway to scratch Dogmeat behind the ears before chucking his rucksack beside the couch and settling down into the old moth-eaten cushions.

He awoke the next morning, neck stiff and a moderately-sized puddle of drool on John Hancock's old uniform. He fell into a coughing fit for a few seconds, then started to rub the sleep out of his eyes. It was much worse since he had made the change from smoothskin to shambling dead. Suddenly, he got a whiff of something heavenly coming from the makeshift kitchen Nora had thrown together after their last trip to Concord. He got up and shuffled his way over, following his nose.

"What's cookin' good-lookin'," he said, his voice cracking and ruining his smooth playboy persona. He cursed internally, but it hadn't seemed to bother her much. She hadn't even turned from the stove, still working on whatever delicious concoction she had in that pan.

"Breakfast!" she chirped, "Also, if you're wondering where your boots went, I set them by the door. You fell asleep with them on."

Briefly, he wondered how long she had stayed awake for the day before. She had been awake for as long as he had, but hadn't shown signs of exhaustion quite the same. It was probably all the uppers she was on, supplied by yours truly. He wasn't too proud of being her supplier, but he realized the alternative would be much worse. And so it continued.

"Shit," he remarked blandly, "Musta been pretty serious if I forgot your no shoes rule."

She shot him a glare as he casually poured himself a glass of water. They both knew full well what he thought of her house rules. They had a sort of unspoken playful rivalry going on where he would drive her crazy and she would try to kill him by making him scout out dark areas that scared her.

"I hope you choke," she deadpanned, setting a two Mirelurk omelets down on the table and sitting down.

"Go ahead and keep the act up, sister," he chuckled as he sat, "You and I both know it's only a matter of time before you confess your singular, undying love for me and beg me to traipse around in my muddy boots."

She simply rolled her eyes and continued chipping away at her omelet. He mimed being shot in the chest, but decided to drop the farce and get to eating before it got cold. Still, he thought, regarding her as she perused the latest issue of Publick Occurences, it really was just a matter of time. They'd been in a sort of flirtatious limbo for a while. He knew what she was dealing with, though, so he was playing it smart. Biding his time. Of course, he wasn't above protecting her from creeps like fucking MacCready. Every time that scumbag tagged along, he always caught the sicko ogling Nora like a piece of meat. So one day while Nora was pawning off her perpetual horde of shit she kept in her pack, he pulled him aside and let him know where they stood. Sure, there had been some initial resistance, but there seemed to be a sort of mutual understanding between them now.

"Wanna go check out this museum I heard about while we were in Diamond City?" Nora asked, interrupting his train of thought, "It's about two day's walk east of here."

"No rest for the wicked," he grinned. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

* * *

 **A/n: I wrote all of this on a whim. No bully pls. ( jk go ahead &bully, I could always use suggestions :^) )**


	2. Chapter 2

The second they set foot into that goddammed basement, he knew he was in for a liberal helping of karmic whoopass. Crawling through that decrepit old shithole made him want to run all the way back to Goodneighbor crying for mommy, but as per usual he was blindly following Nora's orders like a friggin mooncalf. And of course, she had made him scout ahead. He would be cursing her out right then if he wasn't afraid the slightest sound would get him chewed up into itty bitty pieces like what happened to that poor nosebleed on the floor above. He shivered, thinking about what could have done that. Nora had mentioned that this was some sort of museum of witchcraft, so he was on guard. Who knows what freaky shit went down here.

"Eep!" Nora squeaked, causing him to whirl around, shotgun at the ready. He felt the tension leave his shoulders when he saw that it was just a piece of brain she had stepped on. Nothing life-threatening at least. He went back to securing the perimeter, quietly cursing his taste in women.

* * *

It was times like this Nora thanked god her partner in this godforsaken wasteland, even if he was a drugged-up beatnik. As strange and alien he was to her at first, she had warmed up to the cranky ghoul pretty fast, all things considered. Especially at times like this, she noted, clinging to his coattails without a lick of pride. She felt a loose pang of something as she considered what Nate would have done in a situation like this. He would have been a lot better at the shoot-em-up side of things, she knew. All she was good for was sitting behind a terminal in a lab or the like.

Realizing that she was in one of those moods she had been finding herself in lately, she stopped briefly to pop a couple of mentats that tasted vaguely like grapes before grabbing some of the more useful junk lying around. Couldn't complain about the caps, though. Suddenly, Hancock paused, raising a hand to motion a full stop. Big, floor-shaking footsteps came from above. Well, she mused, at least if they got torn to shreds by whatever was lying in wait for them upstairs, she was going to be high when she went out.

"Hey," she whispered, hoping not to draw too much attention. Hancock turned and she could vaguely make out the death glare he was giving her.

"Uhh...chem break?" she asked hopefully. He just did that sigh/growl thing he did when she tested his patience and threw her one of the new chems he'd cooked up back in Sanctuary. Not pausing to wonder what he'd handed her, she took a big huff from the inhaler, muffling her cough into her road leathers.

While she'd been huffing what seemed to her to be really strong Jet, Hancock had been scouting the upper floor from the staircase. He now returned, a grim frown fixed on his lipless mouth. She'd been wondering lately what it would be like to-

"Deathclaw," he hissed, bringing her train of thought to a grinding halt, "strong."

Nora held back a groan and raised a finger to let him know she was cooking up one of her signature half-cocked schemes. After five minutes, she pulled out her syringer, loading a couple of Lock Joint syringes before creeping her way up the stairs. The blasted thing was just prowling around like it owned the place. Although, to be fair, it had pretty much established dominance over the previous occupants by riping them to shreds, so it would be reasonable to assume a transference of ownership would be in order. It lifted its head, sniffing the air tentatively, and she took the shot.

Instantly, the Deathclaw froze, its nostrils still flared. No time to lose. Scrambling, she began to litter the floor with frag mines, bottlecap mines, and any other explosives she had in her pack before sprinting for the basement.

"Take cover take cover take cover take cover," Nora screamed, almost plowing down Hancock in her hurry to get away. Not a second after they ducked behind the nearest wall, there was an unearthly roar that would haunt her nightmares for weeks to come. An explosion followed, shaking the building to its very foundations. When the dust finally settled, she realized that she had been clinging to Hancock's sleeve and unceremoniously pushed him away.

"Don't flatter yourself sister," he said slyly, "You'll know when I make my move."

Nora snorted, dusting his shoulders off before ascending the stairs to check out the damage. Hancock followed while straightening his rumpled sleeve.

"I call dibs on chems and booze," he said, beginning to search the nearby bodies.

"I did all the hard work," Nora whined, nevertheless chucking a cigar she found over at him. She'd found a box of old snack cakes for herself and was already munching her way through them at expert speed. He let out a little whoop of delight and lit it up immediately, puffing away happily. Suddenly, Nora found a weird-looking egg on one of the bodies and held it out to him to examine. He took it in one hand, inspecting it wearily.

"Deathclaw egg," he said sanctimoniously, handing it back, "and before you ask, we're not doing shit with it other than making a nice omelet. Or maybe scrambled eggs this time? Whatever you prefer."

Nora looked at the egg forlornly, trying to surpress her motherly instinct that was quickly kicking in. By the time she locked eyes with Hancock, she'd already made up her mind. He groaned.

* * *

"You," Hancock panted, tired after their lively sprint away from that godforsaken nest, "Are off your fucking rocker. No more chems. Ever. You're going clean as soon as we get to the nearest doctor."

Nora stuck her tongue out, producing a syringe of Med-X and shooting up before he could intervene. He sighed and lazily made his way over to take the offered syringe.

"I'm unappreciated in my time," she sighed, scoping out the horizon, "Let's go find somewhere too hole-up for the rest of the night. I want to drink and make merry without any uninvited guests."

"I live to serve," he said, offering an arm for her to take. She gratefully accepted, cozying up a little closer than he had expected. He covered up the goofy grin on his face just long enough to say "I know you swiped that syringe for yourself."

* * *

 **A/n: Girl are you a baker because you look strung out and snack all the time :p**


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, sleeping beauty," growled a familiar voice from above, "rise and shine."

"No," she grumbled into her pillow, reaching to swat whoever it was away, "leavmelon."

Suddenly, she felt the mouth of an inhaler being pressed against her mouth. She obediently inhaled, but snuggled even deeper into her sleeping bag with nothing but a coughing fit as a thank you. She got a decent minute more of R&R before her sleeping bag was roughly unzipped and peeled back. All she could do was screw her eyes shut and mewl for mercy. Her assailant gave no quarter; however, and she was seized by strong arms and set on her feet. Slowly, she opened her eyes to find none other than the infamous John Hancock himself, king of rude wake-up calls.

"It's past noon you filthy lush," he scolded as she grabbed the offered sunglasses and attempted to put them on without stabbing her eyes out. She sniffed self-importantly, holding a hand out for her sleeping bag. Instead, he held out another inhaler.

"Plus, it's no fun to wake-n-bake alone..." he said cloyingly, making a face that was both slightly repulsive and very endearing at the same time. He was a walking talking conundrum.

Nora took the offered Jet with as much dignity as she could muster and took a hit indignantly. Hancock watched, a funny looking smirk on his face, until he took out one of his special inhalers and took a hit himself.

"Naughty boy," Nora purred, "what on earth would your mother say I she could see you now?"

"Aw c'mon pops, I can quit anytime."

"Good one."

They stayed in that half-rotted cottage until nightfall, huffing and puffing and carrying on like the apocalypse hadn't happened and there wasn't a broken world waiting outside their door. By the time they finally hit the road, high out of their minds and laughing like a couple of dopey kids it was already nightfall. It didn't really bother the pair; they were used to traveling under cover of night. They usually tried to be more alert and take precautions when taking chem breaks, but they were already too far gone at that point.

"Wait wait wait," Nora slurred, setting down her bottle of rum to rummage around in her pack. Hancock was still laughing at the last thing he'd said, and started took a swig of his own whiskey bottle to keep from coughing like he was wont to do. Finally, after much rummaging and swearing like a sailor, Nora pulled out a couple of Med-X, holding them up to her mouth like a walrus.

"Guess what I am," she said, chuckling madly, "you have three chances."

"Mmmm," Hancock hummed, gently stroking his rough chin, "I'm gonna have to think about this one."

Nora tried to help by making these weird noises that could have been either a menacing growl or indigestion. It made them both break down for a minute, diverting the challegne.

"Deathclaw but with drugs. Drugclaw."

Nora giggled in a very un-Nora way and shook her head.

"Ok, ok...uh...Yao Guai with really long teeth."

"Nooo," Nora sighed, "think monsters that look like people not animals."

Now Hancock was really stumped.

"Elder Maxson? Hell, I give up," he sighed, defeated.

"Drugula," Nora exclaimed, baring her syringe teeth once more before packing them back up, "you know about the story of-"

"Yeah, Dracula," Hancock finished, "Yeah, this kid I used to hang with back in my Diamond City days told it to us. I think that was the first time I used Daytripper."

They settled back into a comfortable pace, debating what chems were best. Hardmode: no personal recipes or mixes like Buffjet, etc. They were really getting into the debate between Buffout and Psycho before either of them realized they were being followed.

"Act natural, don't stop walking," Nora hissed, causing Hancock to stop guffawing and stiffen up, "There aren't very many from what I can tell, but they've got the drop on us. Slowly, draw your weapon, safety off."

She followed her own directions, slowly drawing her trusty 10mm out of its holster and ticking off the safety. A few more steps, and they were both ready.

"Three...two...one," she whispered, eyes going cold and flinty with determination.

They both whipped around, guns trained on their pursuers, who seemed scared stiff even though their own weapons were drawn and at the ready. This would be a cakewalk as far as Hancock was concerned. Nora could talk her way out of a paper bag.

"Alright, boys," she purred, casually advancing with a sort of catlike grace that was both hot and really intimidating at the same time, "why don't you drop those pea shooters and scram. My associate and I don't take kindly to party crashers."

"A-alright lady, we don't want no trouble," said the one to the right, beginning to lower his firearm slowly, his other raised high in surrender. His partner hissed something at him, obviously pissed.

"Hey pal, didn't you hear the nice lady?" Hancock growled, cocking his gun menacingly, "She asked you to drop the gun."

There seemed to be some serious internal debate going on, but as soon as the stranger began to raise his gun, he was filled with buckshot. His friend yelped and ran off, hands high above his head as he faded back into the dark night. Wordlessly, they waited until his retreating figure was beyond their sights, then made to scavenge what they could from the corpse. The boy didn't have much but the gun and no more than a few .308 rounds. Looked like he was new to the ways of the wasteland, barely a man no more than 19 years old. Hancock sighed as he finished patting the kid down. He hated times like these. He'd had no choice, but it didn't make the bitter pill any easier to swallow. Time was the only thing that made it easier.

"Hey John let's hit the road," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Who you callin' John, you lowlife," he said playfully, hitting the road, "The name's Hancock."

"Read as: king of the losers."

"Fucking stoner piece of shit; codename Nora."

"Bitch! That's what you are but what am I."

"No one uses that line after their balls drop."

"Yeah but what am I?"

"Human trash."

"But what am I?"

"Making an ass out of yourself."

"Bingo," Nora giggled, "Do you want a prize?"

"Is it a brand new car?"

"Nope. You get a raise," she said, chucking a bottle of the good wine at him. He caught it deftly, whistling slowly.

"Sister keep this up, and you'll have yourself an honest-to-god lackey on your hands," he joked, sticking his combat knife into the bottle to try to dislodge the cork.

"Just what I needed," she said, squinting into the rising sun, "another poor sonovabitch blindly following me around."

"Call me Preston."

* * *

 **A/n: I'm going somewhere with this I promise.**


	4. Chapter 4

A few weeks later found Nora a few thousand caps richer and even more strung out. She was starting to get what Hancock had meant when he'd warned her that chems were all fun and games until they weren't anymore. While walking home from busting Emogene the Drama Queen out of house arrest, she noticed that out of the five inhalers of Jet, two tins of Mentats, and seven bottles of Buffout, she only had one bottle of Buffout left. Reasoning with herself, she cited the pesky raiders and super mutants who posed much more of a threat without Hancock watching her back as plausible reasons. Even if she could convince everyone else in the Commonwealth that she wasn't close to baking away the rest of her brains, she couldn't fool herself.

Frustrated, Nora cursed Hancock for choosing to stay in Goodneighbor and sit this one out. It gave her a sort of sick release to shift the blame, and she hated herself for it. After another good hour of beating herself up for her weak character, she realized that if she wanted to not be such a bad friend, she would to stop abusing chems. Dr. Amari could probably help out; she seemed more competent than most wasteland "doctors." And so, she made up her mind to get clean.

The rest of the walk back passed without incident. Not even stopping to unload the few knick knacks she had picked up on the trip at Daisy's shop, Nora headed straight for the Memory Den.

"Hey doc," Nora called out upon entry, "do I need to schedule a check-up or do you do walk-ins?"

The reserved woman peeked her head around a corner curiously as the Sole Survivor made her way back to the clinic.

"Ah it's you," Amari noted dryly, "What business do you have now? Did little Billy fall down the well?"

"You're a riot doc," Nora smirked, following Amari around as she fiddled with scalpels and other doctor things, "I was actually looking for some more...conventional assistance today."

"Oh?" Amari asked curiously, not turning from her work. The doctor was making Nora nervous, scuttling around like that. In the big scheme she had cooked up on the way back, she hadn't accounted for how utterly embarrassing it was to ask a professional woman like the good doctor to help her with a matter she could have handled herself if she wasn't such a useless tit.

"I think I took a few chems too many," she finally confessed, pretending to toy with a nearly blood pack so as to not make eye contact, "got anything?"

"Of course. I had figured as much," Amari said, already pulling out a syringe, "Our mayor may be a good man, but in my opinion he isn't the best company to keep."

Nora bristled at that somewhat as she was injected with whatever it was modern medicine passed for those days. It wasn't Hancock who had landed her in this position. Hell, he had probably prevented her from overdosing on occasion. The man wasn't sainted, of course, but he didn't deserve that. As soon as she opened her mouth to say something, though, Amari was already on her.

"Yes, I know he's charming and smart and probably has you wrapped around his little finger," the older woman warned, gently swabbing away the small blossom of blood on her arm, "But if you were to take my advice, you would keep your distance. You do a good job of keeping up an intimidating front, which serves you well no doubt, but you must take care that you look after the little girl hiding behind all that armor. That is all. Try not to overdo it next time."

Shell shocked and mildly confused at what had just happened, Nora took her time getting to the Third Rail. She felt naked and exposed, kind of like her mother had just scolded her for coming home with a letter from the principal. It was an odd feeling. All her life before the bombs dropped, Nora had been the model American. Dutiful daughter, diligent worker, obedient wife. That may be a bit of an exaggeration (she was no pin-up girl after all, and no high-class lady worked for RobCo as a product tester), but she had never had something like this happen. Then again, she'd only been a mild alcoholic before the war…

"Well hello beautiful," came a familiar voice, jolting Nora back to the present. She had made it to the back room of the Third Rail on autopilot. "Come here often?"

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't be caught dead in this rotten town. I hear the mayor is a rotten womanizer who mercilessly hits on business associates," Nora shot back, taking the glass of something he offered her. She downed it quickly before taking a seat across the way.

"Fahrenheit," Nora acknowledged, nodding to Hancock's second-in-command in what she hoped was an amiable way. She was pretty sure the bitch was never going to forget the whole heist/fiasco with Bobbi No-Nose. Fahrenheit just eyed her down in response. Yep. No love lost there.

"I'm just gonna go...ogle Mags or something," Nora decided after a few excruciating minutes of listening to business talk. Something about a supply deal with Vadim back at the Dugout Inn for some of his famous moonshine.

"Wait, we're almost done here," Hancock called, but she was already out the door. No more stress today. She just wanted some good jazz and strong booze. So, she lit a cigarette and headed over to Charlie so that she could make Hancock sorry he put her on his tab.

About halfway into her second Rum and Nuka, Hancock finally emerged from the back room, motioning her over. Nora signaled for him to hold up for a second and grabbed a couple of bottles off the racks behind Charlie before following him in.

"How'd that errand go," Hancock purred in his best business voice as soon as the door closed, "A little bird told me you made a stop at the Den. Musta been a real doozy if you needed Amari to patch you up."

Nora cursed him below her breath, even though she knew full well it was her who was being shady and dishonest. Making a spur-of-the-moment decision that was really just a throw-back to the days when she used to lie to her mom about stealing cookies out of the jar on top of the fridge, she decided to spin him this tale about how the cult they had traced Emogene back to was actually a large colony of dangerous super mutants, how she had barely escaped with her life – after rescuing the harpy-in-distress of course – and had returned to Goodneighbor at once for immediate medical attention.

"I see," Hancock drawled after she had finished trying to spin her sack-of-shit tale, "Did you by any chance happen to rescue Billy from the well while you were at it? I hear he's been trapped down there a while."

"Nope. Last time I heard, he'd been rescued right before falling down another well somewhere south of here," Nora said before taking a frustrated drag from her cigarette.

"Poor kid," Hancock said passively, "But if you don't want to tell me, I respect that. Everyone's got secrets, I just hope you've got a good reason for this one."

"Yes," Nora said before she caught herself, "I mean no. I mean...ugh. You can fuck right off if you think I'm just going to come out with it after putting so much effort into that lie."

"You actually put thought into that?" he said, giving a low whistle, "This is gonna be a long night."

* * *

 **A/n: Cutting off in the middle of a scene so I will be publishing the next chapter soonish. Don't everyone pm me with confessions of undying love at once!**


	5. Chapter 5

Nora buried her face in her hands, already feeling a blush coming on. She was on her fifth drink now and feeling it.

"I thought it would be better off if you didn't know. You might think I've gone soft," Nora said, trying not to sound like she was whining.

"Well I think you're making a big hoopla over nuthin'. Out with it," he said sternly, and Nora briefly considered Amari's advice from earlier.

"Alright, but but keep the commentary to a minimum," Nora said. She took a big gulp of liquid courage before she spilled her guts.

"I decided to get clean today on the way back, just for a while until I'm sure I've got my head screwed on right. That's why I stopped by Amari."

Hancock didn't say anything for a moment, as if expecting something more.

"Why didn't you just say so?" he asked, a little more softly than his usual abrasive half-roar, "I've got some Addictol in the back, you could have just come to me."

Nora shrugged awkwardly. Truth be told, she still didn't know just how much she could trust Hancock, despite how long they'd been traveling together. He sighed, sounding tired all of the sudden.

"I can respect getting clean, don't get me wrong, but I ain't heard shit about this before today," he continued, his accusing eyes holding her rapt attention, "Now I don't usually admit to it, but that smarts. You're my partner. I'm even your occasional supplier for chrissakes. You can't just up and decide to make a big decision like that without giving me some idea of what you're doing."

Over the course of Hancock's small speech, Nora felt like she was buried in unnecessary guilt until it reached the point where she was just mad. Shit, she didn't even really understand why he was chewing her out. Sure, she'd made a decision without him, but it wasn't like he'd want to sit down and talk about her feelings or some shit.

"It's not like it affects you. I just decided to get clean for a while. I thought you respected people trying to stop using, or does that only apply to people you don't have to deal with?" she asked, nearly spitting the last words out, "Always the idealist, just like your namesake."

"Oh you don't even know, sister," Hancock said after a momentary pause, as though something had clicked, "Did you actually think you could just go in, take a shot, and everything would be better?"

The blank look on her face answered his question. He groaned and ran a tired hand across his face, really feeling the liquor now. Against his better judgment, he'd left everything here in Goodneighbor to travel with her without so much as a second thought. In the back of his brain he knew he was overreacting a little bit, but something about this just rubbed him the wrong way, and he couldn't quite place a finger on it.

Nora opened her mouth to say something, but he just shook his head. He mumbled something along the lines of "I need to think" and left, ignoring her soft voice calling his back.

Now alone, all Nora could do was look down at her hands drowning in her own confusion. What was the big deal? This wasn't like Hancock at all. He wasn't the type of guy who let things like this get to him. Sure, she had anticipated something but not this. Just thinking about the way his eyes had looked…

Nora's shoulder's slumped, and she let her face fall into her hands. It didn't even occur to her that she was crying until she looked up a while later and the cool air hit her face. Numbly, she stood and made her way to what passed for a bathroom to give her face a good wash.

"Last call," called Whitechapel, his voice sounding muffled and strange to her from where she stood rinsing her face.

There weren't any towels, so dried her face on the collar of her shirt. Afterwards, she couldn't tell much of a difference, but she trudged out to the bar for her last drink anyway. Either Charlie didn't notice the state she was in, or he was programmed with a tact preprocessor because he gave her the usual without much ado. The drink went down easy, but the underlying feeling of confusion and aloneness. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes quickly, trying not to be that girl crying at the bar on last call.

"This last number's called 'I Loves You Porgy'," Magnolia purred into the microphone, drawing her attention, "It's a slow one, folks, so grab that special someone if they're close-by."

Mags took a second to clear her throat before crooning one of the saddest, slowest ballads in her repertoire. Nora groaned internally, giving a cursory look around the bar. None but the most dedicated patrons were left, but all of them looked as drunk and sorry as she probably did. She was inclined to pay no mind to Mags' last song until the music actually kicked in, drawing her attention.

"I loves you, Porgy  
Don't let him take me  
Don't let him handle me  
And drive me mad  
If you can keep me  
I wanna stay here  
With you forever  
And I'll be glad

Yes I loves you, Porgy  
Don't let him take me  
Don't let him handle me  
With his hot hands  
If you can keep me  
I wants to stay here  
With you forever  
I've got my man"

Nora wasn't much for music beyond what she'd heard on the radio occasionally, but anyone could agree that the song was beautiful in its own melancholy way. It haunted her as she left the Third Rail and walked to the room in the Rexford where she was staying, its slow tempo matching her every step. Even as she snuggled into the old dirty mattress, Mags' voice still echoed in her head as though it was a lullaby meant just for her.

* * *

 **A/n: I highly recommend giving the Nina Simone version while reading. I was listening to it while I wrote and rewrote this chapter like 4 times lol. See you, space cowboys.**


	6. Chapter 6

A week later found Nora in much the same state she had been in that night at the Third Rail. She'd made sure to skip town that morning after she woke up, nursing a moderate hangover. She was halfway to Diamond City by the time she realized that she'd left her jacket at the Third Rail the night before, but going back didn't seem like an option. Not for a while at least. There was this niggling fear that she had gone and ruined everything, and all she wanted to do was run away until it all blew over. That was pretty much as far as her plan went, but she'd be damned if she wasn't going to try to see it through.

She made good time, but not as good as usual. When she'd on uppers, things like resting weren't such a big deal. It gave her more time to think, she supposed. Figuring out what was going on in her head was a lot easier out in the untamed parts of the Commonwealth. Defending herself had just become second nature to her, pulling the trigger like taking a breath. Rinse and repeat. Therapeutic in its own way.

After about a day in Diamond City, she hit the road again, deciding to wander some more. There had been things she'd been meaning to take care of, anyway, shutting up Vault 111 for one. She had been missing Nate, but more and more she was beginning to realize that what she'd felt for him had been infatuation. They hadn't had much time together, getting hitched right before he shipped out and and Shaun being born shortly after he'd returned. That didn't mean he didn't still hold a place in her heart, but she was beginning to see things in perspective.

It hadn't taken long to figure out that she'd grown fond of Hancock. She wasn't exactly sure why or how far that went, but she decided that it wouldn't be a very good idea to go crawling back to him like this. Didn't want him to get any funny ideas, after all.

After picking MacCready up from one of her settlements, she decided to go check on that crazy Cabot family to see if they needed anything else. It didn't come as much of a surprise when they immediately set out on the long hike to Parson's Insane Asylum. The trek was more tedious than it usually was, what with MacCready miming Jack Cabot whole way there. By the time they spotted the intimidating building on the horizon, Nora was about a hair's width away from pistol-whipping the shit outta both of the two idiots.

"Not getting a good vibe from this place, Jack," Nora growled, keeping low as she followed the mad scientist to the front doors, "I knew those raiders were bad news, but I figured there would be less of them."

"Yeah...we should get the heck out of here," MacCready chimed in, "Now would be good."

"Edward's men seem to have given a good account of themselves," Jack muttered, beginning to open the facility, "Not good enough, unfortunately."

The second they stepped in, Nora heard voices and motioned for Jack to get behind her. He looked miffed since he'd asked to take point back at the mansion, but she wasn't going to risk her payout on some hurt feelings. The small team crept their way through to the door that Nora was sure lead to the voices. She gave the door knob a good jiggle, but it was no use.

"The way is barred from the other side," Jack observed, earning a glare from both MacCready and Nora.

"Looks like we're gonna have to do this the hard way," Nora grumbled, letting Jack take point again to lead them through the dungeon that was Parson's.

By the time they made it to the basement, Nora was fed up. Instead of taking down the raiders like she usually would with time and precision, she just pulled out a few frag grenades and pulled the pins before strolling in.

"You let the old man free, and it's your head, Lefty," Nora growled, striding past his lackeys without a backward glance, "I'll give you till the count of three to get your filthy raider ass out of here before we all go up in smoke."

"One."

Lefty seemed stunned, as though still expecting her to start shooting.

"Two."

His two friends were already halfway to Diamond City. Stunned, he began to lower his weapon. Before Nora even had a chance to say "two and a half," MacCready took the shot, splattering the whole room in Lefty's brains.

Nora hadn't been spared, unfortunately. She was left trying to stick the pins back into the grenades while her hands were slick with blood, cursing all the way. Cabot was still yelling at them about the shield gizmo that was keeping the old man shut up, but Nora was all tied up.

"MacCready," she barked out, wrestling with the grenades, "Do me a favor and help the good doctor out, wouldja?"

While she'd been trying not to blow them all to hell; however, Lorenzo Cabot had taken the opportunity to try slithering his way into her sidekick's head. On any other day, Nora might have gone through the polite way of dealing with this new turn, but she wasn't having any of it.

Swiftly shoving the last pin back into its grenade, she dumped them and drew her sidearm. MacCready turned, looking mesmerized, just in time to get a face full of her pistol. He crumpled like a pre-war bag of potato chips. Not taking a second to consider the old man barking at her or listen to whatever bull he was stying to pedal, she turned on the Abremalin switches just like Cabot wanted and tried to drown out all the background noise. It felt like something was trying to worm its way into her head, but she just kept shutting down and retreating even further into herself. It felt like months had passed before Cabot finally pulled her back to the present with a good shake.

"Thank god," he breathed, "I was afraid that my father had harmed you in some way."

"MacCready?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. The doctor pointed to where her companion lay, a good purple welt forming where she had hit him earlier.

"MacCready!" she called, accepting the hand Jack offered and standing, "Stand, you sorry sonovabitch."

He groaned, but sat up looking as confused as ever.

"What'd I miss, doll?"

It didn't seem to be a very long trip back to Cabot House. MacCready didn't seem to remember what went on in the basement, so Nora decided to let his slip up with Lorenzo slide. She was feeling charitable after finding a few doses of Jack's magic medicine, even giving him a slightly larger share of the reward than promised before sending him on his way.

Before falling asleep in her rented bed in the ruins of Bunker Hill that night, she let her mind drift wondering what she could have done with immortality. There were only a few ideas that didn't involve holing up with Virgil in that cave near the glowing sea and trying to beat her high score in Red Menace, but those few made her reconsider going back to Goodneighbor, tail between her legs. She didn't sleep much that night, and awoke late the next day with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

 **A/n: Yeah this chapter didn't have too much, but I'm setting up something big I promise. Also I'm going out of town in a couple of days so I plan to put out as many updates as I can before I go.  
**


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